Harry Potter and the Ten Terrible Tasks
by Nicole Blair
Summary: Harry Potter never looked for trouble, it always just found him. For example, Beline Dicey.  Harry and his friends are propelled into yet another deadly adventure. Will they be able to survive this time? HPGW RWHG DMOC Full summary inside!
1. Another Prophecy

_**Disclaimer: Unfortunately, I have never, do not, nor will I ever own Harry Potter. But, hey, a girl can dream.**_

_**This story takes place after Deathly Hallows, however disregard the epilogue. I tried to stick as close to canon as possible, adding my own personal touches, opinions and ideas to both old and new characters, places and items. Please enjoy and let me know what you think!**_

_**Summary: Harry Potter never looked for trouble; it always just seemed to find him. Even with Lord Voldemort gone, Harry isn't exactly out of harm's way. A major decision by the ministry puts him into what should be a safe situation; however, tribulations come knocking in the form of Beline Dicey. Despite her obvious alignment with the Malfoy family and other questionable witches and wizards, Harry and his friends are ultimately compelled to help her in her quest to accomplish Ten Terrible Tasks. Harry, Ron and Hermione have survived so much, but will they be able to persevere another deadly adventure? Harry/Ginny Ron/Hermione Draco/OC **_

_**This is just the first chapter of many yet to come. It's also only my revised first draft. By posting it now, I'm hoping it will encourage me to finish and revise and add more. While most of this story is already planned, I would be delighted to have your suggestions and opinions. THANKS!!!**_

**Harry Potter and the Ten Terrible Tasks**

**CHAPTER ONE - Another Prophecy**

_July 31, 1981 Somewhere near Cape Cod, MA_

She made her way down the road until she came to the tiny patch of woods that separated her from the small guest house situated on the manor grounds. He was there waiting for her, like she had asked him to be. Light spread through the windows and acted as a beacon for her in the darkness.

Stepping hurriedly, she stumbled and tripped along the cobblestone path that led to the door. She wanted to retreat, but an innocent babe was at stake. Pulling her dark traveling cloak around her tight, she treaded onward toward the candlelit house. She could hear the nearby ocean, and that comforted her until she knocked on the door.

The man she had been expecting opened the door, a murderous grin upon his face. Excitement burst out of the open doorway with him; however she was immune to it. She was nowhere near the sociopath he was and she didn't enjoy the reason why they had been brought together. His blue eyes were vicious, but they were alight with malice. A bottle of firewhiskey was in his hand; he had all intentions of celebrating.

"She's in labor," he said. Then, he ushered the girl into the comely house.

Unfortunately, the woman knew that this information wasn't coming from a proud soon-to-be father, or even an ecstatic family member. Rather, it was coming from something pure evil.

"The damn bitch is in labor," he said opening the bottle of firewhiskey he had been holding. The woman didn't want to take off her cloak, but the next thing she knew the man was at her side forcing it off of her. He strew it on the sofa and offered her a glass. She didn't take it. "You know what that means?" he asked, getting real close to her face.

She knew, but said, "What?" And she still had to tell him that there was more - that she now knew more. That would disappoint him a great deal, and if there is one thing that he hates, it's being disappointed. She waited.

"I'm about to be the most powerful wizard alive," he grinned devilishly. "That Voldemort bastard will have nothing on me. I'm going to be the most feared being alive, and there's nobody to stop me," he said matter-of-factly. She knew who he was talking about. A new article was written everyday about the awful things that were happening in Europe because of that evil man named Voldemort, and she knew that the man before her wanted to achieve the same terror. Certainly, he was capable of it.

She couldn't bring herself to say anything, which was terrible because what she needed to do was say a lot of things. All she could do was stare into his sapphire eyes that were sparkling with murder. He was going to kill that baby tonight. Or, rather, he _had been going _to kill that baby tonight. The girl knew there was no point in it now, and he would not be happy once she told him what she knew. He was waiting for her to say something; but she never did. She couldn't. A long, awkward silence ensued and the tension in the tiny living room grew immensely.

"Aleta," he said. His voice was filled with passion, but not for her, not of love. There was no _feeling_ in his voice. Long ago it had abandoned him. "There's something you're not telling me." His eyes fell suddenly and he looked at her suspiciously as his brow furrowed. His blue eyes became dark, and although they had been cold before, she actually got chills by looking at him. Muscles in his jaw were clicking, and his nostrils flared. He was a bull about to charge.

"I was w-wrong," she whispered finally, lowering her head at the same time. That wasn't such a wise decision; it left her completely vulnerable.

Without warning, Aleta was up against the closest wall. The man's evil body was pressed against hers, and his vile hands were around her neck denying her breath. Her wand was unreachable in her position. She squirmed and tried to call out, but it was useless. He was much stronger than her and nobody would ever hear her. There was no doubt in her mind that he was going to kill her right then and there.

But then, he let her go. She fell to the floor, where she stayed rasping for air. He was angrier than a hornet. He cursed as he kicked the bottle of firewhiskey across the room. The far wall shattered the glass.

"The baby still has the power you want," she finally managed. Her voice was shaking something awful. "You just have to wait."

He turned and glared at her. "How long?"

Aleta crawled to the traveling cloak. Inside the pocket was a bundle of parchment. She searched through it like a madwoman and he waited impatiently. "You have to wait until the last burden appears," she paraphrased. She tried pointing out various symbols and numbers and readings but his mind was somewhere else.

"What the hell's that supposed to mean?" he yelled. Still on her knees, she rummaged through the papers again.

"I don't know, I just …I just know you can't harm it until after they all appear, and before it makes them disappear."

The same question was written across his face. And he was growing angrier by the second. His tan complexion was growing a scarlet color and Aleta longed to leave.

"And there's more…" she began. "You ca…"

He cut her off. The wand was in his hand. "How _long_?" he asked again. Her life depended on the answer. Somehow she knew.

"I don't - I don't know," she cried. Hot tears streamed down her face and he became a blur. "It just has to _trust_ you, and you're going to…"

"Enough."

"But, I'm trying to…" she was trying desperately to save him from making a grave mistake.

"I said enough. I've heard enough. _Silencio!_" A flash of light flew from his wand and hit Aleta in the chest, and suddenly she was incapable of talking.

Suddenly, his eyes were dead. All of the excitement that had been in them before had vanished and he was left with dull blue eyes that were unimportant. There was no life in them, which was fitting because Aleta knew that the man didn't have a soul. He couldn't. Nobody could just betray their family like that for power, or so she thought.

Too afraid to move, she was still on her knees. Parchment was scattered around her, filled with her numbers and runes that only she could read. Now, only she knew the fate of the man before her.

He was furious. Taking a gulp of firewhiskey from his tumbler out of feeling misery rather than celebratory, he looked at her with pure hatred.

She knew what was coming next, so she closed her eyes. Thoughts of her mother and father filtered through her head, and her old schoolmates. She thought of her son, and of her husband and the life they'd live without her. Tears stained her face. The ocean waves roared through the window and swept her away in them. Her final thoughts were the baby that was on its way and the hell the man would put it through. She knew. She knew.

"_Avada Kedavra_," he shouted and a green light shot across the room like a rocket. Aleta Chezona fell to the floor with a small thud. It hadn't been the first time he had used the killing curse and it wouldn't be the last. It certainly wasn't his last murder that night. His eyes were cold again, and he left her there with only the sounds of the waves singing a lullaby through the window.


	2. Change

_**Disclaimer: I promise to put it back when I'm done.**_

_**CHAPTER TWO- Change**_

Harry Potter never imagined returning to the place before him. The uncared for lawn stood out among the other cleanly cut shrubs and freshly mown grass of the surrounding houses, but other than that, the small brick building was identical to the structures on either side of it. The driveway was missing a car, the curtains were pulled shut, and it looked as if the place had been abandoned for at least the past year. Truth was, it had been.

Number 4 Privet Drive stood before Harry as ominous as it always had been. Oh the times he had enjoyed there, from being locked in the cupboard under the stairs, to blowing up his _favorite _Aunt Marge into the size of small house, to being threatened, screamed at and picked on. Harry sighed as he made what would at last be his final trip to the front door. The sun beat down on him, offering him some much needed false hope.

"Just do this, and you'll never have to deal with them again," muttered Harry to himself as he ignored the gold knocker and hit the door with his own hand. Then again, he thought the last time he saw his relatives would be the final occasion. He was alone, he had argued with Ron, Hermione and Ginny until they agreed that they would meet him in Diagon Alley at noon. Without anybody to back him up, he braced himself to face the wrath Uncle Vernon. Planting his feet firmly on the faded welcome mat, he prepared to be greeted by a red, raving man shouting profanities. The assurance he had experienced the night he had walked into the Forbidden Forest to meet his fate wasn't with him at this instant, because after all, Dumbledore hadn't primed him for this moment. But who was he kidding? He had just whitewashed the most feared dark wizard in centuries.

That's where he realized his thoughts were going awry. He couldn't think like that; he'd drive himself mad. Circumstances had been different, utterly different, that night. Defeating Voldemort hadn't made him invincible. Nevertheless he wasn't just another member of the floo network. Still, he was susceptible to peril at every corner, albeit he was at considerably lesser odds. Emotions tore at him, and at times the poor boy felt so confused he couldn't sleep or eat. Realizing risks lurked literally everywhere, he was bound for more heartache and discontentment. Vengeful and rancorous death eaters were still out there somewhere, and just by killing the Dark Lord, Harry hadn't eradicated all things evil. No, Harry Potter would never have an ordinary life. Period.

Hearing somebody unlock at least half a dozen bolts on the other side of the door, Harry realized noon couldn't come soon enough. A tired, slightly thinner, looking man opened the door. He looked Harry up and down with a slight grimace on his corpulent face. Rushing a hand through his graying hair, Vernon Dursley ushered Harry in without a word. Harry could have sworn he heard him snarl as he passed him, although it might have just been his imagination. Either way, Harry couldn't help but feel like he was walking straight into a dragon's lair.

Harry staggered slightly through the entrance without saying anything either. Passing the stairs, he delicately palmed the door below them. A weird sentiment passed over him, and he didn't need Professor Trelawney to tell him that by the time he left he'd be completely confused about his feelings. Tonight would be yet another restless night. Harry took a few seconds to examine the walls around him while Vernon locked the door again. Harry saw that there were only five bolts securing the door shut, not six. However, Vernon pushed a decently sized curio cabinet so that it blocked the entrance. The gloomy ambiance inside contrasted deeply with the ideal summer weather outside. The opaque drapes refused to let the beautiful weather in, and held the musty atmosphere prisoner inside the house. However, the place was cleaner than Harry ever saw it.

The house only got more solemn as Harry continued into the dining room. Aunt Petunia and Dudley were at the dining room table. Harry took a seat across from them and waited for his Uncle to take his seat as well; Harry felt on edge with him standing, as if he were ready to pounce. Petunia was patting Dudley's hand. She was obviously glad to be home as the house looked immaculate inside. Unless you had known, there was no possible way to guess the place had been deserted for so many months. Petunia didn't greet him; in fact, Harry wasn't sure she even knew he was there until she finally looked up at him. With newfound knowledge, his opinion of her had changed drastically and pity overcame him as he looked into her eyes. Her forlorn appearance painted a picture of what she had been through, but Harry couldn't be sure if the Dursley's had encountered dark magic of any kind, or had just been miserable with magic all around them. He was putting ten galleons on the former. However, he wasn't going to ask. The majority of him didn't want to know, and the majority of the Dursley's didn't want to tell.

Petunia's blonde hair had faded, though it hadn't yet seen the effects of aging like her husband's. She was skinny before, but now she seemed unhealthy. Dark circles clouded her hardened eyes, and if Harry had to guess, he'd say they had all been living hand to mouth for a while. She wasn't singing praise to her Duddykins, either; he sat quietly beside his mother never bringing his eyes up to meet Harry's. Suddenly Harry forgot all about "Harry Hunting." _What was coming over him?_

"We got your letter, boy," said Vernon in a no-nonsense voice, sitting beside his wife. "Everything's back to nor - _normal, _then?" He kind of fidgeted nervously next to her; he wasn't sure how to act. Although Harry wasn't skilled at legitimacy in the least, he could tell that Vernon was battling with some tough thoughts. The three of them lined up against him on the opposite side of the table made him feel like he was on trial. Nonsensically, he felt guilty.

_Well, no_, thought Harry, but in terms of the Dursley's, things were as about as normal as they were going to get. "Yes," he said blankly. "You can get on with your lives." Harry put little emotion into his statement and wished to get out of there soon. He could feel an invisible tension in the atmosphere and felt that if he didn't leave before long things weren't going to end nicely. Or they were going to end joyously. Harry could tell which he feared worse.

"Get on with our lives," shrilled Petunia. "And how exactly do you s'pose we do that?" She didn't imply that it was Harry's fault (truth be told, Harry thought she might be talking to herself) but guilt plunged through his stomach.

Harry knew what she meant. They had been in hiding for a year, with wizards at that, and it was more than likely Vernon's company had found somebody else to sell his share of drills. Smeltings had missed Dudley for an entire year, but Harry awkwardly didn't think that mattered much. And he knew the "most-muggle" family in the world hadn't enjoyed their stay with "his kind" this past year.

Vernon's face was twisted in a weird fashion, but Harry noticed it wasn't the normal look of hatred that he saw. On the contrary, Petunia and Vernon, no matter how angry they were with Harry, had a strange _understanding_ expression written on their faces. No doubt their perfect, suburban lives and been upturned, and they were still upset, but now they knew what Harry had been going through for the past seven years or so. Sadly, their pride got in the way of an apology. So they didn't say anything.

Harry had readied himself for screaming, maybe even some violence. He had prepared himself for Vernon's temper, Petunia's piercing voice, and Dudley's incessant whining. He was geared up to shield himself from thrown objects, and he was ready to wield his wand if need be. Unfortunately he had not planned for silence.

"I don't know why I've done this," Harry began trying to find the words he had practiced with, "but I wanted to help you get things back to - er - normal." _Actually,_ he thought, _this is kind of a parting gift._ Immediately, he regretted the notion.

"Humph," snorted Vernon, not at Harry, but at the thought of being normal again. Somehow, Harry could tell the difference.

Dudley still remained voiceless, looking down at his hands. Much like his father, he looked thinner, and somewhere along the way he had lost his spoiled demeanor. For so long he had been sated by everybody, Harry wondered if he'd ever be the same.

Harry mustered up the courage and put a small, mulberry-colored satchel on the table. After all the Dursley's had done to him, all they put him through, he couldn't believe he was doing this. Ron's words penetrated his mind once more: _You're an idiot, Harry_. For a second he thought about grabbing the bag back and running out the front door. Remembering the curio cabinet, a fast escape wasn't likely. But now it was too late for second thoughts. Instead, he slid the bag toward his only living relatives. Sitting here with them now, he knew that it was the right thing to do.

Vernon took it apprehensively, opening it up with caution. Petunia looked on curiously, and even Dudley picked his head up to have a look. His uncle looked up in surprise; the question doodled all over his face. He pulled the bag away from Petunia's peering eyes.

"It's real," said Harry, but Vernon still looked at him questionably.

"You didn't - _make_ this?" he said. "You didn't steal it?" A hint of anger was in his voice at the thought of magic.

"No," said Harry, looking him in the eye. "It's yours to keep; there should be enough to set things on track."

Vernon nodded, but he didn't say thank you, nor did he ask him where it came from. Harry hadn't expected him to. With his business finished, Harry got up and made his way towards the back door, eager to leave. It was a weird mix of emotions surging through him, and he wanted to get out of their before commiseration destroyed him, or the Dursley's.

"You're leaving?" asked Dudley, speaking for the first time. Harry noted a touch of disappointment in his tone. Harry didn't know what Dudley had seen since the last time he saw him, most of him never wanted to find out. Shattered pieces of terror remained on Dudley's face, reminding Harry of the effects of a dementor. Despite all the things Dudley had done to make Harry miserable for so many years, he couldn't help but feel bad for chubby, blond-haired boy. The look in Dudley's beady eyes told Harry all he needed to know. There wasn't a doubt in Harry's mind that Dudley felt overwhelming sympathy for him. He had known ever since he realized the tea cup outside his door wasn't a booby trap, but rather a peaceful offering. The worry in Dudley's voice reinforced Harry's convictions.

"Yeah, I've got to get back," Harry said opening the door. He added, "I'll be okay."

"But, where will you stay?" asked Dudley as Harry pushed the empty china cabinet that had been put in front of the back door. He knew that it was silly that they thought that the wooden furniture and extra locks would somehow protect them, but he didn't say anything. They would be safe now regardless.

"I'll be okay," repeated Harry with more fervor. For a moment, Harry contemplated writing down an address, but the truth was he wasn't sure where he'd be living. "Maybe I'll send an owl later…or a letter by mail. Something." They didn't reply in words but Harry was sure he had the affirmative.

Vernon stood up, Petunia followed. "Goodbye, bo - er…Harry," said his uncle, and Petunia nodded. The shock of those words pushed Harry through the door. The warm summer sun washed over him. Shaking his head slightly to get rid of the pity and an odd form of relief that had won him over, he wondered if that would be the last time he ever saw them. When he had arrived he had certainly hoped so, but now he wasn't so sure. Taking another glimpse at Number 4 Privet Drive, he stepped behind an un-manicured bush and disappeared. He had made it through alive and with his eardrum intact. Actually, the whole thing had gone completely unexpectedly. It was his most peaceful exit yet. He had survived the dragon's lair unscathed.

By now, Vernon was surely sharing the contents of the satchel Harry had given him. He envisioned Petunia shrieking with some sort of joy, and Dudley grabbing it asking for a new computer or game system and a very pompous Vernon holding the contents in front of them. Harry had hoped the sight of the money would set them back to the way they were, and a small part of him hoped that they had forgotten about him or were cursing his existence. But he knew it wasn't true. Things had changed.


	3. Two Toned

**_Disclaimer: Harry Potter isn't mine._**

**_CHAPTER THREE- TWO TONED_**

****

The Leaky Cauldron would indisputably look out of place on Privet Drive, lawn or no lawn. Looking at the watch he had received for his last birthday, he entered the pub with time to spare. A lot of time. Ginny and the others wouldn't even be there for a couple of hours yet. For some reason Harry had thought it would had taken him much longer at the Dursley's. Harry thought about looking around the muggle bookstore or record store that sat on either side of the pub, or even taking a walk down to the Thames to bid his time away, but decided to just wander his way inside the shabby looking bar.

Tom was behind the counter pouring mead into a tankard for a dingy looking warlock. Several others were inside as well, but Harry didn't pay them mind. Those that recognized him just bowed there heads a little to show respect, and Harry was glad that he wasn't overwhelmed like he had been the first time he had come with Hagrid. Nobody made a fuss, thank Merlin.

Finding an empty table in the corner, Harry waved to Tom as he sat down. The barkeep sent him over a drink, which Harry sipped thinking about the Dursley's. Glancing at the golden watch on his wrist every now and then, he let the time slip by.

After about a half hour, a cluster of wizards entered the hostelry. All of them wore expensive looking robes and there was a manner of erudition and superiority around them; Harry was confident they were here for business rather than leisure. Kingsley Shacklebolt, the tallest and darkest, was among them. Hoping they didn't see him because he really wasn't in the mood to chat, Harry slouched down into the wooden chair as far as he could without looking ridiculous. He cursed himself for deciding against walking down to the river as Kingsley made him out in the darkness. Not that Kingsley was the last person he wanted to see, but Harry just wasn't in the mood for company.

"Harry," the man with the gold earring called cheerfully without losing his sense of eminence. Along with the four other men that followed behind him, enthralled in their own conversations with one another, he walked towards Harry's lonely table. Harry also noticed a young girl was with them, however she was partially hidden behind the oldest looking warlock and Harry couldn't get an adequate glimpse of her. From what he could see, her robes were a resplendent white in color and appeared to be made out of a fine fabric Harry couldn't identify from this far away. The clothing distinguished her from the rest of the group, whom were all in black dress robes. The rest of her identity remained latent. "I wasn't expecting to run into you so early today. What a pleasant surprise," the black wizard said sincerely.

"Yes," said Harry climbing back up into his chair so that he was sitting straight up. Kingsley didn't seem to notice Harry had been trying to hide, nor did he seem to pick up on the hint of sarcasm in Harry's voice. "I'm just waiting for the others so we can make our way to the ministry." Graciously, he swatted black hair away from his eyes and took the newly appointed minister's palm, knowing he was lucky to do so.

"Oh, yes," said Kingsley, "the big meeting's today."

"You'll be there?" asked Harry.

"Yes, but I have a few matters to clear up first." Kingsley looked around and remembered that he was with company. Very important looking company. They didn't seem to mind, though, as he talked to Harry. On the contrary, they smiled and waited patiently as they talked to each other. "Harry, I'd like you to meet Abram Szymusiak," Kingsley said, gesturing towards a younger man behind him. The tall, mousy-haired fellow had been talking to the girl, apparently telling her about the entrance to Diagon Alley. When he realized that he was being introduced, he gave his full attention to Harry. "This is Harry Potter."

"Of course," said the man pointing out Harry's scar with his kind gray eyes. Harry was very used to this behavior, and apart from how much it annoyed him at times, he ignored the action. There was something about the man that told Harry he was going to like him. Professor Trelawney would be really proud of him today.

Harry stood and held his hand out, "Nice to meet you." Slightly pale and sickly looking, the man prompted memories of Remus Lupin into Harry's thoughts. He was about the same size, and he was built much the same way. A wretched sorrow trounced Harry at thoughts of Lupin. It had already been several months, but the pain burned every time Harry thought of those whom he had lost as if it had been yesterday. Conceiving the anguish ever vanquishing was not viable. One day though, he'd be able to think of Lupin, and Tonks, and Fred, Colin, Dobby and others and the grief that he felt would be replaced with pride. Because Harry Potter was proud that he had been given the chance to meet every single one of them.

Pulling himself out of it, he shook Abram's hand.

"Abram will be filling the Defense Against the Dark Arts teaching position," said Kingsley, genuinely happy with the decision.

"Oh," smiled Harry. "I hear the curse is gone, though. You should be able to endure more than an entire year."

Those that had been paying attention to their conversation, namely Harry, Shacklebolt and Szymusiak, quietly laughed.

"Yes, well," Abram started, "I'd heard that you were modest, but…"

Kingsley patted Harry on the back and clutched his shoulder, much like a father showing off his son. "Some things _never_ change, Potter." He smiled at Harry, all tough pretenses being thrown out the window into Charing Cross Road. "This is Dolos Pilatus," he pronounced, indicating the eldest gentleman. Dolos stepped forward and shook Harry's hand as Abram turned back to the young lady in white. "Harry Potter," Kingsley uttered as the two shook hands. The comfort that Harry had felt with Abram had vanished, and a slight chill ran up his spine after they parted hands.

Dolos' small blue eyes were nothing special, especially compared to those of Dumbledore, but they pierced through Harry's skin. Strangely, at the same time, the rest of his aura gave off a warmth Harry couldn't help but to want to be around. He was like a set trap waiting to kill the unlucky mouse that happened upon its contents. Harry had looked into many eyes before, and many of them had lied to him. He knew enough to discern Dolos' eyes were cold, calculating, and delusive. No doubt. Instantly Harry wanted his distance. He decided right then and there he wanted nothing more than an acquaintance with Mr. Pilatus no matter how kind the rest of him seemed. The deliberation was harsh, but Harry felt strongly. Then he found out who he had judged.

"Dolos is the American Minister of Magic, Harry," Shacklebolt explained still clutching Harry's shoulder gently. "Actually they call themselves Speakers," he whispered in Harry's ear loud enough so that Dolos heard the mordant disparagement in his voice. "_Speaker for Sorcery _at the _State for Sorcery_. Have to do everything different over there," his deep voice teased politely.

"And Harry Potter here, _wouldn't be so famous_ if everybody had run their government like us," the Speaker jabbed playfully, his eyes remaining dismal. Harry laughed brusquely against his will after Kingsley gave him a little nudge.

"And this is Ciar Pilatus Monsieur Pilatus' son, and his assistant Dillon Garson." Kingsley gestured correspondingly towards the remaining males, both of whom looked to be around Harry's age. Obviously Kingsley had noticed Harry's wariness around the Speaker. Dolos nodded at Harry and mumbled something to Kingsley; Harry hadn't heard because he had been preoccupied introducing himself to the Ciar and Dillon. A moment later, the Speaker and Abram Szymusiak were saying goodbye to Harry and departed into the alleyway behind the Leaky Cauldron.

"Don't mind him," said Ciar, in a crisp American accent. Harry didn't know much about dialects and contemplated which part of United States he was from. Hopefully, he would run into Ciar at a more convenient time; now just didn't seem the most apposite time to ask such nonsensical questions.

Harry wondered if Ciar always appeared so calm, cool and collected, even under times of great stress. It seemed likely. There was a healthy cockiness about him Harry had seen somewhere else before, even if he couldn't remember where. Unlike with his father, Harry took an instantaneous, yet unprovoked, predilection to Ciar. Muggle actors shared many of the same physical qualities with him, many a young witch would swoon over him, and Ciar obviously knew it.

On the other hand, there was Dillon Garson. Immediately, Harry thought of Percy Weasley. Although Dillon lacked blazing red hair, freckles, and a prefect badge, his character was an uncanny resemblance to that of Percy. While only an assistant, Dillon notably took his job very seriously. He was dressed almost as well as his boss, and carried a pricey leather briefcase in his left hand. Glasses sat square on his face and his eyes cried out that he was all work and no play.

"Nice to meet you, Mr. Potter," he said grandiloquently. Behind him, Ciar rolled his eyes. "I'm very sorry," he continued, either not noticing Harry's smirk or ignoring it, "but I must be catching up with Mr. Pilatus."

"I understand," said Harry, much the same way he used to talk to Percy.

"Don't mind him either," said Ciar.

"Finally," said Kingsley, "here we have the lovely Miss Beline Dicey, the Speaker's granddaughter." Harry hadn't even noticed that he had a clear view of the hidden girl. And what a view it was. Her attire wasn't the only thing that was radiant, no, rather her mere existence seemed to emanate light and brilliance. Many things about her could make a man turn to muck, from her gloriously long chestnut hair, to her perfectly proportioned body. Her parents had been good to her. But what Harry found most enrapturing were her eyes. Somewhere, sometime, somebody had said that the eyes were the window to the soul. Harry hoped to Merlin this was true, because if it was, he was looking straight into the most mesmerizing soul ever.

Her left eye was blue, her right, green. They were different but the same hue of their respective colors. It was strange, but beautiful. One might not even be able to notice they were different at a quick glance, but Harry doubted it. Both were deep in their shade, and they sparkled in the small amount of light that filtered around the hostelry.

Once again, Harry had to pull himself out of it. Her soft hand shook his, her hand icy. Dark circles infiltrated her pretty eyes and a grief he had come to know all too well had rested there. The girl was tired, Harry could tell, but something else was wrong. She didn't say anything. Instead, she looked to Kingsley and Ciar for her cue to leave. Taking the hint, Kingsley guided them towards the alley. "I'll see you later, Harry. Best of luck today."

"Later, Minister," called Harry, sitting back down. He looked at his watch again. Five hours had passed by in seven minutes. Tom sent him over another butterbeer.

"Bye, Harry," bellowed Ciar as if they were old friends. Harry replied the same.

"I should have gone to the Thames," he said to himself. That girl, Beline Dicey, had been the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on. Harry didn't even mind that she didn't say anything. Taking off his glasses and wiping them on his shirt, thoughts of two-toned eyes flooded his brain.

Then he remembered Ginny Weasley.

All thoughts of any other girl evaporated. Beline Dicey couldn't even hold a candle next to the fiery red head. He was perfectly happy with Ginny's bright brown eyes, silky skin, and delicate voice, and he abruptly missed her. He hadn't seen her since breakfast yesterday, and if that made him seem obsessive he didn't care. Yes, Harry's heart belongs solely to Ginny. For a long time Harry never imagined feeling this way about somebody, but now he couldn't imagine not.

Not in the mood for anymore butterbeer, Harry put a few sickles on the table and made his way out into the back alley where he was greeted by a brick wall. Three up, two over, a tap of the wand and he found himself facing a narrow street that hadn't been there moments before. The crowd was chock full of familiar faces, but Harry didn't know many of their names; he had just seen them all before. He didn't waste any time getting to where he wanted to go.

Granting Number 93 Diagon Alley was closed, Harry walked down an extremely narrow path between the building and the one beside it. A set of wrought-iron steps took him up to the flat above Weasleys' Wizards' Wheezes.

Before Harry could even knock, Fred answered the door. Technically, he floated _through_ the door and scared the daylights out of Harry in the process. Fred was still amused at his ghostly self and never passed up the opportunity to ruse and prank others. Afterlife had broadened Fred's horizons and he was just as mischievous and comical as he'd always been, if not more so. Sometimes people wondered if actually preferred being a ghost.

"By golly, is it Harry Potter?" shouted Fred rambunctiously.

"'ello Fred," greeted Harry opening the door. Fred favored soaring through the solid wall: _"What's the point of being a ghost if you're still going to use silly things like doors and stairs?"_

George wasn't to be seen from inside the entrance. "Working on any new experiments?" Harry asked Fred, who was floating beside him.

"Me? No. I've been dead-tired lately," Fred said rather seriously, however a moment later wild snorts broke from him. "Get it? DEAD-tired!" Harry laughed, not because the pun was funny, but because Fred was only pretending it was. He had a knack for making terrible ghost jokes that were far from his original sense of humor and he'd feign wild laughter, thus, giving those around him a small chuckle. Fred Weasley was destined to become a ghost.

Harry found George in the small workshop on the far side of the apartment. "Harry!" He didn't bother asking how Harry was or what had brought him there, instead he said, "I've got some knew things to show you."

It was good to see George working again. For a long time, he had been reclusive. George just wasn't George without Fred. He spent his days at the Burrow, completely abandoning his lucrative business. Without Fred he was miserable. You can't just separate twins like that.

Then one day, Fred walked right back into all of their lives. Well, actually, he hovered his way back in. Either way, everybody was happy to have him back despite his lack of pigment.

"This is my latest invention," said George pulling out a brown paper bag. "They're called Silent Sphere Sweets," he said excitedly. "Fred thought of 'em when were trying to have a private conversation and this weird little witch kept butting in. I wanted to make something that given every time she interrupted us, she'd make loud quacking sounds."

"I said that was ridiculous," Fred snorted. "Firs' of all, it'd be highly annoying and second, it's in no way beneficial to us."

"So what did you come up with?" Harry asked Fred, feeling not the least bit awkward that he was talking to a ghost.

George tossed an ordinary-looking piece of red candy at Harry. "Just give that sucker to somebody and you'll have a conversation that nobody else can hear but the two of you. Basically, we just toyed around with silencing charms."

"We're in need of a better slogan," sighed Fred.

"Take some Harry, we made loads," encouraged George handing Harry a small private stash of Silent Sphere Sweets in an assortment of flavors.

Harry spent the remainder of the morning with George and Fred. George was definitely back in his element with Fred around. Even though Fred no longer had a pulse, he was still the same Fred Weasley Harry had grown to love like a brother. He was surprised by how easy it was to forget that Fred wasn't alive, and at times he found himself reaching out to playfully push him away or hit him only to find his hand slipping through icy cold air. George seemed happier though, and that's all that mattered.

His pockets weighed down by tons of new Weasley products, Harry made his way to the place he had told Ron he'd meet him at. Sure enough, Hermione, Ron and Ginny stood at the steps of Gringotts waiting for him.

Ginny kissed him as he put his arm around her.

"How'd it go, mate?" asked Ron, referring to Harry's visit with the Dursley's. He ignored Harry's interaction with his sister.

"Weird," Harry half-laughed, half-muttered.

"At least you're alive," said the red-haired wizard.

"We're going to be late," interrupted Hermione. Australia had tanned her skin and lightened her hair a little.

"Yeah," said Ginny raising her head from Harry's shoulder, "and I want to get a good seat."

She let go of Harry's hand and walked beside Hermione. Ron and Harry followed them, discussing the day. Harry told them about meeting the American Speaker of Sorcery, and how he hadn't been impressed with him. By now, all of them trusted his instincts and didn't scoff at his intuitions. Ginny seemed to get a little jealous as Harry fleetingly mentioned Beline Dicy, but she quickly dropped it for a lighter mood.

Besides they were much too excited for the meeting at the Ministry to have negative thoughts. Optimism flooded through them. _One more chance,_ thought Harry, _one more chance for a normal year. _


	4. Catching Up

_**Disclaimer: This world belongs to J.K. Rowling. I just play in it.**_

_**A/N: I know, it's kind of boring right now. Be patient, it will pick up. And I'm not sure what happened with this chapter, I just kind of wrote and this is what I ended up with. **_

_**CHAPTER FOUR - CATCHING UP**_

Anticipation rose even more within Harry as they turned onto the grimy street that housed several grungy offices and a stone wall covered with graffiti. A bright red telephone booth stood out amongst the grayness of the road. Approaching it, he opened the door and let Ginny step inside; he followed behind her. Hermione and Ron were obviously going to wait to make the ride more comfortable for all. He was pressed close to Ginny, her body made him nervous. Harry picked up the phone, not bothering to put it to his ear, and dialed 6-2-4-4-2.

"Welcome to the Ministry of Magic. Please state your name and business," a woman's voice sounded.

"Um…Harry Potter and Ginevra Weasley, here for the Hogwarts meeting," he said confidently, gripping Ginny's hand which she had placed on his chest.

"Thank you, Mr. Potter," said the invisible woman, "Please be sure to take your badges. All students attending the Hogwarts arbitration are required to register at the front of the Atrium. Good luck and good day."

As she finished talking, Harry and Ginny took their pins from the change chute. Glancing once more at Ron and Hermione, who thankfully weren't snogging, Harry noticed that several other wizards and witches had appeared. A small line had formed outside the phone booth.

Suddenly, Ginny burst out laughing as the red box quickly started to descend deep into the earth. At first, Harry thought that she was laughing at the sudden rush the moving booth gave her, but then she showed him her badge.

He grinned profusely as he read _Ginevra Potter, Hogwarts Arbitration._ An idea struck him, and he quickly looked at his own badge, just to make sure they hadn't just mixed the surnames up. However, it was his own name, and not _Harry Weasley_ that was engraved on the square, silver pin.

"Kinda catchy," he said boldly. Ginny's cheeks turned a bright shade of pink.

"Don't get any ideas, Potter," she said.

"I was talking about Hogwarts Arbitration. I wonder who came up with that," he smiled.

A faint look of pretend shock took her pretty face as she playfully punched his arm. "I'm going to keep this," she said smiling brightly. "As a keepsake."

"You do that," said Harry. How it was possible to feel so much for one person, he didn't know. The last few months with her had been paradise, and even at such a young age he had thoughts of marrying her. Frankly, why search for something else when you've already got what you want. Besides, his own parents had been around his age when they decided to wed. However, the meeting today would determine a lot about their futures.

A moment later they found themselves in the Atrium of the Ministry of Magic. The usual staff and visitors walked briskly around, but Harry noticed the place was deluged with students also. They waited until Ron and Hermione appeared after them. Again, Harry walked with Ron, this time leading the girls. He heard Hermione and Ginny giggle in a girlish way and although Ron looked kind of puzzled, Harry knew Ginny had shown Hermione the badge. He thought about telling Ron, but liked the perplexed look on his face and decided to keep him waiting for an explanation of the girls' sudden burst of girlishness.

The quad had to wait for several minutes in a line full of their classmates. Seamus Finnegan was ahead of them and he kept them company until it was his turn to sign in. Luna Lovegood was there too; however she was much farther back in line. Neville stood beside her. When it was his turn, Harry picked up the quill and wrote his name on the parchment before handing the quill to Ginny. After all four of them had successfully registered, they followed Seamus to the lifts.

The clattering lift took them to the first floor. Harry had never been there before and looked on in amazement as the doors opened up into a magnificently decorated hallway.

"I'm not sure where we're going," said Seamus.

"Me either," sighed Ron. A few other students came from the lifts behind them.

"I think the witch at the front desk said to continue straight until we pass the painting of a court jester," Hermione offered, "then turn right and there will be a set of golden doors." Apparently, she had been the only one paying attention. What else was new?

Sure enough, at the far end of the hallway a court jester was attempting to juggle milk bottles within his frame. A side hall to the right took them straight to a set of golden doors. They weren't just gold in color, but they seemed to be actually made of real gold. It took both Ron and Harry to open the thick, heavy doors.

"You guys do realize you have your wands, right?" asked Ginny sarcastically.

Inside, they found a large auditorium. Actually, it was more like a small arena, easily fitting five thousand people. Hogwarts wasn't quite _that _populous, but it was the only area large enough and ambient enough to fit everybody. Alive with students, many of whom Harry recognized, it felt like they were walking into the Great Hall. However, the four long tables had been replaced by rows of chairs, and the ceiling was just a simple, yet appealing, white marble.

If Harry had to guess, he'd say that at least half the school's pupils were already in the room. The rest were behind him, filing their way into the meeting area. At the sight of Harry, Hermione and Ron, people stepped aside, making it easier for them to gain access to the front of the audience. Particularly pleased by this, Ron even stopped to sign a few autographs for a couple of second-years. People that they had never even talked to pointed them out, and Ginny took a tighter grip on Harry's hand every time a girl giggle or threw suggestive offers his way. He ignored it because the only thoughts going through his head were of Ginny's hand in his.

Dean Thomas and the Patil twins had saved and entire row of seats right up front and when Neville and Luna joined them, there were only three seats left at the end. A small platform had been put in the center so that everybody had a vantage point. Most of the Gryffindor house sat near them, and Harry noticed that Ravenclaws sat with Ravenclaws, Slytherins with Slytherins, and Hufflepuffs with Hufflepuffs.

The Slytherins sat on the far right side of the room. They segregated themselves and didn't talk to anybody but each other. Maybe they were still supercilious, or maybe they were still purely embarrassed; Harry didn't know. Gregory Goyle sat beside Blaise Zabini, the same stupor as always on his face. It was kind of bizarre seeing Goyle without Crabbe at his side. Even more so to see him so calm and still. Harry knew that Goyle's dad was in Azkaban, serving his time for committing to Voldemort; while Gregory had been a supporter of Dark Arts and his loyalty was still questionable, he wasn't a sociopath. Harry knew all too well what it was like to grow up without a father.

Luckily for Goyle Sr., Azkaban was no longer the same dreadful place it had been for the twelve years Sirius was kept there. One of the first things Kingsley Shacklebolt did as minister was to abolish dementors. Nobody knew where the vile creatures had been sent to, and nobody wanted to find out. On the other hand, Azkaban was still no place any man wanted to go to, and Shacklebolt had made sure that criminals like Gregory's father got the punishment they deserved.

Azkaban wasn't the only place that had seen some renovation. At the request of Hermione, Kingsley had started the ball rolling on cleaning up the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, and the Department of Magical Law Enforcement was slowly but surely being upgraded. Kingsley had set out to make a positive difference and he was doing a damn good job of it.

And everybody seemed happy. Months had dragged by, not caring for anyone. All of the people in the room had lost _someone_, and while it still hurt deep down, it was time to move on. That's why they were here.

* * *

The Weasley household had prevailed again after many weeks. Always a strong family, they refused to start over, rather, they picked up the pieces and started running again. Fred's death had nearly killed them all, not to mention the loss of so many dear friends. From time to time, you could still catch Mrs. Weasley softly mourning in the kitchen, Arthur broken down in his shed, and the rest of the family torn apart emotionally, but that had to be likewise with everybody else and their families. For a long few weeks, everybody was mourning. Then slowly, life started capturing them again. 

Hermione had a hell of a time finding her parents. Ron had gone with her to Australia where they searched all around Sydney and Melbourne with no luck. She became withdrawn and refused to talk to anybody but Ginny, which had caused a few problems for Ron. Several weeks later however, she received a letter from the Dept. of Magical Law Enforcement of Australia stating that they had tracked down suitable suspects for her parents. Not even bothering to pack her bags, she had stormed out of the Burrow, only pausing so that Ron and Harry could catch up.

Africa and the Indian Ocean stood between Hermione and her parents. Even the most advanced wizards wouldn't dare try and apparate. Leave it to Hermione to do it. Without thinking of splinching, or winding up in the middle of the Marianna's Trench, Harry had grasped her arm, and moments later he had found himself standing on the most beautiful stretch of sand and salt water imaginable.

Hermione's parents were home safe now, both back at their dentist practices.

Neville and his grandmother had settled back down, both with newfound respect for each other. Harry and Ginny had sat down for dinner with them one night, and Harry couldn't remember laughing so hard in such a long time. And Neville was always with Luna. They were the odd couple who weren't officially a couple.

It had taken a while for Luna to fully forgive her father, but when she did, so did Harry, Ron and Hermione. Let bygones be bygones. The Quibbler was back to its normal business, and Xenophilius was currently in Bulgaria looking for the Speared Spackerdoodle that roamed apparently roamed there.

Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas were around more than usual. Normally, Harry hadn't seen them apart from the typical run in outside of Hogwarts. Death and loss had scared everybody into appreciating what they had, and the two boys had been to the Burrow countless times since.

A long time went by before anybody heard anything from the Malfoys. Lucius had redeemed himself by choosing his family over the Dark Lord, and Narcissa had deeply betrayed Voldemort. Harry didn't dare imagine what would have happened if she hadn't lied. Even young Draco had abiding qualities hidden in him. But the family remained silent, either out of fear of the remaining Death Eaters or of shame. Most likely, it was a fusion of both.

When the Malfoy family did come out, it was Lucius. He had given the ministry the name of every Death Eater that he could think of. Harry had been there; he remembered Lucius's skin being paler than usual, and his voice had cracked so much he was barely audible.

Everybody else seemed to follow in those patterns. They regained touch with love ones, mourned lost ones, became closer with those they weren't so friendly with before, or they were hiding out for things to calm down.

And Harry - Harry had been busy living. He spent precious hours with Ginny, and never missed a chance to de-gnome the garden with Ron. Every Sunday, if not more during the week, he visited Andromeda Tonks and his godson Teddy. He had long chats with Hermione about everything from muggle movies they had seen when they were younger to Speared Spackerdoodles, and he ate Molly Weasley's food until he was ready to burst. He enjoyed teaching Arthur whatever he remembered about the muggle world, and dropped in to see friends whenever he had free time. At night, he curled up in his warm bed, bid Ron goodnight, and was thankful to be alive and hoped the next day wouldn't be so bad. Nightmares avoided him; only sweet dreams filled his head. Sweet dreams about a lovely red head with big brown eyes and a smile that made him melt.


	5. Mediation Ministry

_**Disclaimer: J.K. Rowling is my homegirl.**_

**_Chapter Five__ - Mediation Ministry_**

At quarter till one, Draco Malfoy walked through the golden doors, his head held high in the air. He wasn't alone. Harry didn't even see him until he sat down beside Goyle and Blaise, leaving his companion have the aisle chair. The last thing he wanted was to be caught staring at Malfoy, but he couldn't help but notice he was with Beline Dicey.

"Look who's back to normal," snickered Ron.

_How do they know each other?_ thought Harry. He watched as Draco ignored Goyle and Blaise - he seemed to sit beside them just by mere habit. His face was placid, and so pale and gaunt, a deep contrast to the tan beauty beside him. For a moment he caught Harry's gaze and fairly grimaced. Draco had a grudge because Harry had saved his life. Not only did his enemy number one rescue him _and_ his family, but now he was in his debt also. Malfoy quickly turned his attention to Beline, who sat with her hands folded in her lap and her eyes closed.

Harry turned back to Ron and Hermione. About to tell them that the girl he had met earlier had just arrived, he realized they were already staring at her and Draco. Seamus Finnigan was beguiled by her as well. Again he told them a brief version of his encounter, and they speculated as to why she was with Draco at the moment.

"Din't you say that you gotta funny feelin' about Dolos?" asked Ron with a mouth full of chocolate frogs that he had pulled from Harry's messenger bag. "Maybe he was an old Death Eater with Lucius." Harry couldn't tell if he was serious or if he was joking.

"Don't be preposterous, Ron," said Hermione, "I highly doubt they had Death Eaters the whole way in America." She had a point. Voldemort's range of power didn't seem to cross oceans. It had been effective enough here.

"She's gotta point," spoke Seamus, "but Death Eaters aren't the only ones of their kind… but I don't think a girl like that could ever be involved with dark magic." He was still staring at her long after he finished his thought.

Harry agreed, but Ron wasn't so sure. "If there's one thing I've learned hanging with you all these years, it's not to judge anybody until after the plot twist."

"Ron, if weren't so blind in love with 'Mione you'd be ogling her too," said Ginny. Ron smiled and looked at Hermione, whose cheeks were a bright shade of pink. She leaned in to kiss him, and everybody else turned away and groaned.

A short while later, Kingsley Shacklebolt and a tiny jury of one wizard and two witches entered the rooms. They came through bronze doors behind the small stage rather than the gold ones. Harry was close enough to the stage to hear the minister say, "_Sonorus." _Kingsley's then echoed throughout the auditorium, as if he were holding a muggle microphone.

"First of all," he began officially, "I'd like to thank all of you for sparing the time for meeting with the ministry today." There were a few cheers from the audience. "As you all know, we've been working very hard to clean up our departments, and it's all been for your benefit, and because of all of your help. It's only fitting that we listen to what you have to say. You have proven to be right so far." A few more cheers from the crowd could be heard. Kingsley ignored them. "It comes to our attention that many of you want to return to Hogwarts. By that I mean, many of you whom should have finished year seven last year, would like to return to finish their rightful education." This time Harry cheered along with damn near every seven year in the building. Even Draco had a smile on his pale face. Kingsley continued, "While this may seem like an easy decision for all of you, it is a much harder one for us to make." His voice didn't match his statement.

Harry didn't understand, what was so hard about it? Just let them go back, it's what they all wanted…even the younger kids didn't mind being held back a year.

A nervous looking witch behind Kingsley began to talk. Her voice was pleasant, but she was very fidgety. "There are _laws_," she said, "and there's never been anything done like this ever. You're asking us to increase the size of the first year class. And the N.E.W.T.'s and O.W.L.'s will be…" she trailed off. She didn't want to be saying this any more than they wanted to hear it. She looked to Kingsley for some help.

Kingsley already had his mind made up. Harry could tell. He even winked at Harry, Ron and Hermione as the witch was talking. "Laws have been broken before, Matilda," he said patiently.

A tall wizard in green robes studied the group for a moment. Finally he said, "This class has caused so much heartache and grief for us parents, that we owe them a second chance."

"Wise man!" somebody called from the Ravenclaw section.

Kingsley smiled. "I agree." Perhaps he was talking to the wizard in green, maybe to the boy who had called out.

The nervous witch spoke again. "All I'm saying is that- what was the point of calling this meeting if you had your minds made up?"

The crowd was animated with exhilaration. Hermione and Ginny kind of squealed like girls do and Ron and Harry clapped hands. Hoots and hollers filled the hall. Seamus and Dean jumped up from their seats and shouted approval, and Luna and Neville awkwardly embraced.

"We were going to have them vote," said a witch in red robes. "But obviously there isn't a need."

The nervous witch, now smiling profusely, the green-robed wizard and the red-robed witch sat in chairs that magically appeared as Kingsley once again addressed the audience.

"Students," he said, "I know what a year you've all had." He looked at Harry when he said this. "This is your chance to go back to normal. Most things will be just the way you love them. Remember this is _your _decision. You are going back to _school_, no matter how old you are. So there are some clarifications we need to make, though."

Harry stopped paying attention for a moment. Excitement infiltrated him and he was shaking slightly. A grin similar to the one he had donned when he saw Ginny's pin spread across his face. He was going to Hogwarts. Oddly, it felt like the first time, and he couldn't wait. Beside him, Ginny was smiling too. And so were Ron, and Hermione. Every damn person in that place was smiling. Even Draco and Goyle.

Actually, at a longer glance, Draco looked relieved. He looked at Beline as if the relief were for her, or so Harry interpreted the interaction. Beline was in near tears, and Draco was right beside her holding her shoulder. He was telling her something, and they both seemed abnormally happy that Draco was going to Hogwarts. Was Beline going too?

"New first years will join last years first year class," explained Kingsley. "Everybody else will repeat their grades, and electives may be taken to fill anything that you feel you've missed in years before." Harry had not heard what he said before that, all that mattered was that he was going back to school with his friends and nothing could take it away from him.

Few people were paying attention; they were all so happy and talkative.

"Furthermore," the minister resumed. Harry, and everybody else loved him at that moment, he could say that they'd each have to face dragons, manticores and sea monsters and it wouldn't have ruined the atmosphere. "We will be having the Quidditch World Cup this year." The applause grew louder yet. "The American National Team versus the Irish National Team, scheduled for August 15th. I know many of you were worried that we would have abandoned the Cup in light of certain events, but I am pleased to tell you otherwise."

After Kingsley had finished his speech, Harry followed the others out of the golden doors. He had kind of wanted to stay and talk to him, thank him, but there was a load of people around the stage. He was definitely in a better mood to talk now than he had been at the Leaky Cauldron.

Kissing them good-bye, Ginny and Hermione left Harry and Ron to say hello to old friends. The boys were left alone in the hallway by the jester painting, who was trying desperately to entertain them. They watched him for a bit and just talked about Hogwarts.

"They said they'd be back, right?" asked Ron concerned. Hermione and Ginny still hadn't returned.

"Maybe they're up in the Atrium," suggested Harry. Ron shrugged his shoulders and led the way. However, when they came to the place where the lifts were, a wall blocked there way. It most certainly hadn't been there before, and the directions weren't that complicated so they'd get lost. This was the place they were supposed to be, most definitely.

Ron touched the wall as if looked for some sort of seal or door. Harry withdrew his wand. "_Alohomora,"_ he tried.

"There's no door, you idiot," said Ron who was still looking for a seal. "Let's find another way out, maybe they're people still in the auditorium."

If there's one thing that really frightened Harry nowadays, it was Ron's level-clearheadedness. They retraced their steps back to the golden doors and when they yanked them open, there was nothing there. No auditorium, no stage, no people. It was just a large, dark pit that reminded them of a cave. Neither of them could see anything, and the only sound coming from the room was a gently rattling noise.

"H-Harry," Ron whimpered. Harry didn't answer. Shutting the doors as fast as they could, they turned back to the hallway and made their way back to the painting of the jester. He was now pointing and laughing at them, presumably because of the dumb look on both of their faces.

"How do we get out of here?" asked Harry as calmly as he could. A sudden thought of him and Ron having long gray beards still trying to find their way out riddled through his conscious.

"You must find your own way out!" he laughed.

Ron gritted his teeth, "What'cha mean? Just tell us how to get the 'ell out of here!"

The jester sighed. "You're no fun. Follow the paintings, you stupid boy, but hurry because another change is coming soon and you won't be able to find a way!"

Ron took the painting off the wall and turned it over so that the back of the frame showed to the world. "That's enough of him," he said.

"Follow the paintings," repeated Harry.

And so, they turned left, then left again, then right, left, left, right, left, right, right and left, down hallways that contained many doors and stretched forever. They were jogging, and Merlin only knows how far they'd gone. At a painting of lovers at a picnic, they stopped to catch their breath. The lovers weren't happy to have company.

"Oh! Another intrusion!" said the man while he started to stand up.

"Darling, at least their not as unruly as the last lot," the woman said.

"The last lot?" asked Ron and Harry together.

"Oh, yes!" cried the woman. "A very pale boy and a very pretty girl were pushed into that room right there by a group of nasty men in black robes, quite against their will I might add."

"There still in there," said the man. "And they haven't heard the last of me. They will pay for interrupting our lunch!" His sword was drawn.

"Oh, darling!" the woman gushed.

"How long ago did they go into the room?" asked Harry. He smelled trouble, and although he didn't want to be involved, he knew that he had to help. Besides, he had a crazy hunch the people the picnickers were speaking of were Beline and Draco.

"Just seconds ago, literally, you've just missed them."

"This door here?" asked Ron approaching a silver door on the right side of the corridor. With the affirmative, he withdrew his wand. Harry stood on the opposite side of him.

"Wait!" whispered Harry worriedly. He pulled open the messenger bag that he become accustomed to carrying with him and from it he extracted the invisibility cloak.

"There's no way we're both going to fit under that, remember," said Ron. "We're not midgets anymore."

"You're right," said Harry as he wrapped it around himself. There was a shriek from the painting at his disappearance. Ron knew what he had in mind.

"And what if they come out and spot me out here?" he asked almost sarcastically. Harry thought for a moment, and then took him into the room across the hall. It was completely full of mirrors, and Ron easily found a hiding place.

Harry promised to come back, and went back to the silver door. Turning the knob, he found that it was locked. "_Alohomora_," he said whilst aiming his wand.

One of the men dressed in black sent another out to investigate the open door. Some type of battle had obviously been fought in the room, Harry could tell, and they were now just recovering and claiming order. Harry sensed evil, and although he knew that the men in black were not Death Eaters, or at least he believed so, he knew that they had pledged their allegiance to some other iniquity. He couldn't see any of their faces, but their voices were all American which told him he knew none of them. It also told him they were there for Beline.

She lay flat on the floor, and for a second Harry thought she might be dead. A subtle rising and falling in her chest told beckoned otherwise. Draco sat motionless in a wooden chair. Besides a table, it was the only furniture in the room, and it looked _medieval_. He wasn't moving at all and his face portrayed no emotion. For a brief moment, Harry wondered if Malfoy had aligned himself with the men in the room. He continued to think so until he realized that Draco wasn't moving at all. He barely even blinking. Somebody had petrified him; his body was bound. Harry had no idea what was going on.

The man that had been sent to search for the cause of the open door had not yet returned, when the remaining four men put Beline on the table. Technically, they slammed her on the table, and Harry was given a reason as to why she had seemed so fragile, weak and tired earlier. This wasn't the first time something like that had happened. They were completely careless with her body. She moaned, and as she streamed into consciousness she began to cry.

All Harry could do was stand there, he wasn't under the body-bind curse but he was paralyzed. Because she was on her stomach, they were beginning to undo her robes from the back. From his position he could see some kind of weird bruises all along her backside.

Terrified of what the men were about to do to her, he had to act. _"Petrificus Totalus!" _he shouted at the presumed leader, whom went down hard. Beline looked around with the others, just as stunned as they were. Draco sat rigid. "_Petrificus Totalus!_" he shouted again and again until all four of them were down. "_Finite Incantatem_," he said pointing his wand at Draco. Malfoy- freed- immediately ran to Beline, who was clutching her robes to her body. She kneeled on the table and Draco helped her down. He was moving fast, and Harry followed him into the corridor.

After they had closed the door, Harry removed his cloak. Beline was breathing hard, and Draco was unnaturally checking to see if she was okay. Something had changed about him.

Beline stared at Harry with wonder and amazement. Both of her eyes were a dark blue and Harry watched as they gradually filtered into the two toned orbitals he had seen earlier. He was amazed by them.

"Ron," he said suddenly.

Beline didn't know Ron, but understood. "Thank you, Harry Potter," she said still clutching her robes.

So many questions filled his mind but there wasn't any time to ask them. "I need to find Ron," he said.

Draco nodded and grimaced at the same time. Harry knew that he didn't want to be in his company, and that he was only acting this way because it was because of Harry he was alive. He didn't say anything, but followed Harry into the room across the hall. Ron was still waiting, safely.

"Who _are _those guys?" asked Ron. The fifth man had obviously entered the mirrored room and spiked Ron's curiosity.

"It's a long story," said Beline soberly.

"The hallways are going to switch," said Draco seriously, speaking for the first time. Harry understood; they had to move, now. He guided them out of the door and down the hallways, following the remaining portraits and landscapes. Until finally, they came to the lifts.

Much to his surprise, the fifth man was standing there. Startled to see them as well, he staggered backward. For a succinct moment, Harry could see his face and his dark brown eyes. Quickly, he covered his head again.

"_Expelliarmus!_" shouted Beline, her wand appearing out of nowhere. The wand not only flew out of the man's hand and before it could reach the ground she cried "Accio wand!" and it was in her hand.

"_Stupefy!_" thought Ron quickly. They rushed passed the man into the lift. None of them breathed until the reached the Atrium.

Harry spotted Ginny and Hermione by the fountain, both of them look vexed and anxious.

"Harry! Ron!" they screamed as they ran toward them. They took heed to Draco and Beline following close behind and a suspicious look floated across their pretty faces. "Where were you! We were worried sick! We told you we'd meet and we got worried when you didn't show up! What _HAPPENED?_" They were shouting at the same time, saying similar things, but Harry couldn't discern them because he was still concentrating on what had happened on the first floor.

Draco was comforting Beline gently, a trait that Harry would never have guessed a Malfoy possessed. They were both checking to make sure nobody had followed them up to the Atrium.

"Thank you again, Harry Potter," she said softly when she was sure the coast was clear.

"Harry, just Harry," he said. For the second time that day he took her hand, her eyes were glowing green. Again they flitted back to the two-toned colors.

She took Ron's hand too, but practically ignored Ginny and Hermione.

"I'd appreciate it if we kept this between us," she said quietly. Draco was obvioulsy agitated at this; Harry had never seen him so _concerned. _"Nothing can be done about it, and I'm sure that goon at the lifts already went back to the others. They're long gone. Please," she begged. For an unknown reason, Harry nodded. Ron was about to object but just nodded in agreement also.

"Let's go, Beline," said Draco coldly. "Father'll be waiting. Potter, Weasley," he said with rancorous contempt.

The girl nodded and without another word or explanation followed behind Draco.

"What's going on?" asked Hermione.

"I have no idea," chanted Harry and Ron together. Ginny took Harry's hand. She was still wearing her pin.


End file.
